


The Sweater of Doom

by ceeba



Series: Post Break-Up Fic [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceeba/pseuds/ceeba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt “we have a lot of mutual friends so we see each other more than two broken up people usually do and i know we’re not really close anymore but you’re wearing that stupid (adorable) hat you always wore when you were upset so tell me what’s wrong because it’s literally killing me to see you look so sad” from this post http://thehalcyonclubwritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/132518177311/post-breakup-aus. I went with sweater instead of hat *shrug*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweater of Doom

_This is stupid_ , Dean thinks, arm pressed up against Cas’ where they’re squished into the booth. He should’ve just disowned all their mutual friends when they broke up last year. Including his brother.

_Especially_ his brother, he amends, catching Sam’s smug smile from across the booth. He glares at Sam and pushes himself further against the wall, trying to have as little of himself touching Cas as possible.

It is entirely unfair, he thinks, that he has to see his ex – The Ex, that One Big Ex, The One That Got Away and all that shit – so often. He entirely blames their shared friendship group for the fact that he’s still in love with Cas.

Cas, though, is just fine. Of course he is. He bounced back pretty damn quickly, carrying on with his life like he hadn’t just moved out of their shared apartment after three years of living together.

Dean supposes that they’re lucky it was a relatively amicable break up. They had been fighting a lot, screaming at each other constantly, until suddenly… nothing. That was when Dean knew it was over, when they stopped fighting all together. After that, it was mostly a clean break. They’d been together long enough that all their friends had merged into one large social group and they’re both mature enough not to ask the other to take a step back. That’d be ridiculous.

Still. Being faced with Cas almost every day isn’t exactly conducive to getting over him. He wasn’t the one to fall out of love, after all.

Tonight something is off though. Cas is quiet, distant, and it’s so unlike him to not participate in the conversation. Dean would put it down to the fact that they’re being forced to sit so damn close making Cas uncomfortable, except…

Except Cas is wearing the sweater of doom. It’s so old now, holes warn into the cuffs and fraying at the bottom. It’s loose and thin with how much it’s been worn. Once upon a time, that was Dean’s sweater. The first time Cas had stolen it was just after he’d failed an exam for the first time ever. It was adorable, seeing him curled up on the couch in this giant jumper, pouting. The next time Cas wore it was after one of his brothers had walked away from him after finding out about his relationship with Dean. From then on, Cas stole the jumper every time he was miserable until eventually he just stopped giving it back.

The last time Dean had seen Cas in this stupid sweater was after his father had died, a few months after the break up. Cas had come to him for support and Dean had given him the jumper to keep. He hasn’t seen it since, but the memory of the last time is bad enough to set off alarm bells in his mind. The panic spirals and escalates until he’s damn near shaking with worry.

He needs to get Cas alone and ask him what’s going on but they’re entirely surrounded. He waits until everyone’s attention is on Charlie as she tells a story before he tips his head closer to Cas’.

“You ok?” Dean whispers.

“Hmm?” Cas hums, still distracted.

“The sweater,” Dean nods towards it.

Cas looks down at himself like he’d only just realized what he was wearing. He looks at Dean, panicked. “Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t even – I just put it on, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s ok, man,” Dean reassures him, frowning. “What’s going on?”

Cas looks at him for a moment and Dean winces when Cas’ eyes fill with tears, turning them this stupid shade of blue that has always been Dean’s weakness. When Cas catches himself, he looks away quickly and taps Charlie’s leg on his other side, asking to be let out. He hurries away from the booth, disappearing outside.

“Shit,” Dean hisses under his breath, pushing out of the booth before Charlie can sit back down and following after Cas. He knows everybody else is watching him but he couldn’t care less, only cares about finding Cas.

He doesn’t have to look far. Cas is leaning with his back against the wall outside, head in his hands. He’s shaking just slightly and if Dean had thought being so close to Cas all the time was hurting his heart then he had no idea. This is the worst thing Dean has seen in years.

“Cas?” he says quietly, taking a careful step forward.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Cas hiccups, trying to turn away from Dean. “I’m just being an idiot. Ignore me, Dean.”

“Hey, stop that, come here,” Dean says, taking Cas’ wrist and pulling him closer. Cas collapses into the hug, clinging on with his arms wrapped around Dean’s waist. He’s sobbing, now, quiet but shaking with it. Dean holds on tighter. “Talk to me, Cas, please,” he begs.

“I – I can’t.”

“Cas. Come on, it’s me. It’s just me.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Cas chokes out a hysterical half-sob half-laugh, pulling away. He swipes at his eyes with the sleeves of that fucking sweater. “It’s always just you, isn’t it?”

Dean takes a step back, frowning. “What?”

Cas seems to deflate. “Shit, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“Can you please just tell me what happened so I can stop worrying about you?” Dean asks.

“I just – god, it’s so stupid. You’re going to think I’m pathetic.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, man. I’ve seen you crying over fictional characters breaking up. I’ve seen you dance with joy when fucking Nasa lands shit in space. I’ve literally seen you at your worst, dude.”

Cas glares at him but there’s no heat in it. He’s quiet for a moment, considering, until he looks away and murmurs, “I found the box.”

Dean is officially confused. “The box?”

“The box!” Cas says, frustrated. “ _Your_ box. You know, all the stupid shit I kept and hid away until I felt like I could look at it again. I thought I was ready, but…”

Dean won’t lie, he’s kind of relieved. He had already convinced himself that someone had died, that _Cas_ was dying. But Cas finding his dumb box of mementos from their relationship? That is manageable. That is fixable.

Except then it clicks and the guilt sets in, hard and fast. “You’re miserable because of me,” Dean realizes. “Again.”

“No, Dean, god –” Cas breaks off, sighing. “No. Not because of you. Because of me. Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“What are you talking about?”

Cas shakes his head. “Do you have a box, Dean?”

“Cas, that isn’t – ”

“Just answer the question, please.”

Dean sighs, feeling heat creep up his neck. “Yeah, I have a fucking box. It’s in Sammy’s garage so I don’t ever have to see it.”

Cas makes a horrible sobbing noise and clasps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he squeaks.

“What’s going on, Cas?”

“I was so stupid, Dean, I just – we loved each other so much.”

“Sure,” Dean says carefully, trying to figure out where this is going. “But we also drove each other crazy. Remember that part?”

“But that was part of it,” Cas says, eyes bright. “We fought but it was ok because we still wanted what we had, wanted each other. It was just _passion_ , you know? It was good.”

Dean’s breath catches. He can’t do this. He is _not_ emotionally prepared for this conversation.“That stopped too, man. Everything just… stopped.”

“I know, God, I know. But don’t you ever think we just gave up too quickly? Shouldn’t we have tried harder to make it work?”

“Fucking hell, Cas,” Dean says, turning away from him. Now he’s angry, and he really does not want to be angry. “You can’t just – do you know how fucking hard I have to try to even come to these stupid things? To be around you? And now you’re just gonna start saying all this shit like it wont change anything, like I’m supposed to just take it all on the chin and carry on like nothing has happened?”

“You think it’s easy for _me_?” Cas asks. “You think I enjoy this? Being fucking pressed up against you in dark bars while our friends share knowing looks? Fuck, Dean, it drives me crazy. _You_ drive me crazy.”

“Then why don’t you just walk away, huh? You sure are good at that.”

“Hey, you let me leave, Dean, you didn’t fight for us either.”

“I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, I fucking hate you, too!” Cas yells, his words echoing through the parking lot.

They stare at each other, chests heaving, until Dean’s scowl cracks. Suddenly he’s smiling, laughing, _crying_ with it. Cas stares at him, shocked. “

We’re fighting,” Dean says in explanation.

Cas watches him for a moment, cracking the smallest of smiles. “Huh. Look at that.”

“We’ve been so fucking _polite_ Cas, god. It was all wrong, us tiptoeing around each other like we hadn’t spent the last few years tearing into each other.”

Cas snorts. “That time you bumped into me and I spilled my beer and we both _apologized_. It was so weird.”

Dean smiles at him. “So what? What do we do now? We can’t just – I mean, it might be completely different. It might not even work.”

Cas shrugs, but he takes a step closer.

“We could try. We could just… hang out. Just us. See how it is to be around each other again.”

“See how it goes,” Dean agrees, letting Cas crowd into his space. He reaches out, tugs at Cas’ jumper with a frown on his face. “You know, I really fucking hate this sweater.”

“Liar. You think I’m adorable in it.”

Dean huffs. “Yeah, but it means you’re sad, so.”

Cas catches Dean’s hand before he can let go, linking their fingers. “I dunno. I’m starting to feel a little better,” he says, and he smiles.


End file.
